


Haunted

by callboxkat



Series: Sanders Sides College AU [5]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Haunted House
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-07 19:09:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16414208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callboxkat/pseuds/callboxkat
Summary: When Virgil gets a job at a new haunted house, Roman, Logan, Patton, Talyn, and Joan plan to go on its opening night. Patton is less than eager, although he tries to hide it.





	1. Chapter 1

_October 2017_

Virgil walked up the steps to Roman’s house. He and a few of his friends—Roman, Logan, and Patton—were getting together to do some studying for their classes.

And Virgil had some news to share—news he was quite excited about.

He reached up and knocked on the door. Roman’s little brother, Emilio, answered it.

“Hey, Virgil,” he said, stepping back.

Virgil nodded in the high-schooler’s direction as a greeting before he walked inside. Roman and the others were probably in the living room.

“…Just multiply these together, and then you should have your answer,” Logan was saying as he walked in.

“Virgil!” Roman exclaimed happily when he spotted the freshman come into the room. He was sitting in an armchair beside the sofa.

Logan looked up at the sound and nodded to him welcomingly. Patton, busy scribbling down an answer on a worksheet, looked up a second later. “Hey, kiddo!”

 “Hey guys,” Virgil said.

“Well, sit down!” Patton said.

Virgil smiled, set down his books on the coffee table, and plopped down on the couch next to Patton.

“So, do tell,” Roman said, eyeing him.

Virgil shook his head, feigning ignorance.

“Come on, you’re practically vibrating with excitement. What’s going on?”

“Yeah, now’s a good time, kiddo!” Patton added. “Logan just helped me finish this last problem.”

Well, okay. If it was really a good time… Plus, Virgil really was quite excited to tell them. He was pleased to find that his voice came to him quite easily.

“I got a new job! For this month.”

“Congratulations,” said Logan, reacting the most calmly, while Patton started bouncing up and down, basically squealing in excitement; and Roman leaned forward, looking surprised.

“A new job? Where’s it at?” Roman asked.

Virgil grinned slyly. “You know that haunted house they’re putting in the empty department store downtown? I’m gonna be a scarer.”

“Oh, wow!” Patton said. “That sounds great!”

“Is your, ah, speech issue going to be a problem?” Logan asked curiously. He did have a point. That was very much still a thing that affected Virgil, even if talking to his friends had gotten easier as he got to know them better and they repeatedly assured him that they wanted to hear what he said. But….

“Nah,” Virgil said. “I don’t have to talk to anybody.”

“Ah. Good,” Logan said, nodding.

“Well, we’re going to have to go, aren’t we?” Roman decided, grinning.

…

Patton was excited for Virgil! He was doing so well lately, and the fact that he’d gotten another job was great! Patton knew his friend struggled with money. This was wonderful news.

But then Roman suggested that all of them go to the haunted house. Which was… less wonderful.

“Of course, we’re going!” Patton said, his grin slightly more forced than before. He wasn’t a big fan of scary things, but he had to support his kiddo, didn’t he? Plus, Roman was obviously eager to go, and Logan was nodding in agreement. Patton didn’t want to be the only one to refuse.

He could do one haunted house, right?

…

Virgil unlocked his apartment door and swung it open, stepping inside. His roommate, lying on the couch and watching reruns of some reality television show, leaned his head back so he could see Virgil around the back of the couch.

“Sup, girl,” Remy said blandly.

Virgil gave him a salute before heading to his room. He set his stuff on the bed, stretched, and then went to grab something from the kitchen. He needed to go to work soon—his first day at the haunted house—to learn how to properly scare visitors or something before it opened next week.

He reemerged into the main room and walked around the back of the couch (Remy would probably be upset if he blocked his reality shows, even for a second) and into the kitchen. He opened up a cabinet, and then paused.

“Uh, Remy?”

“Yeeaaahhhh?”

Virgil chewed on his lip for a second. “Did you, like… buy _every single_ pumpkin-spice-flavored thing the store had?”

Remy looked around. “Nah, girl. They also had these pumpkin spice English muffins that just looked _gross_.”

“Mhm.” Virgil reached around a box of pumpkin spice cookies to grab a couple of his own granola bars, and then closed the cabinet.

“Virge, you cannot eat _that_ as your dinner.”

Virgil sighed, already unwrapping one of the bars. He tapped his wrist to convey the fact that he didn’t have time to cook a better meal.

“Eat something when you get back, then.”

Virgil knew that Remy was just trying to help, but honestly, Remy wasn’t one to talk—there was probably more caffeine in his veins than blood at this point, and Virgil was pretty sure that he only slept about three hours per night on weeknights. And now there was this whole pumpkin-spiced-everything development. But Virgil could humor him.

He gave a somewhat exaggerated nod of agreement before taking a bite of his first granola bar, waving goodbye, and leaving.

…

Virgil got back home around midnight. While he was very tired, and mostly just wanted to go to sleep, he kept his promise to Remy (more or less) and ate something. That something was a can of peaches, eaten straight out of the can, but in Virgil’s defense, he didn’t want to waste time cooking something or cleaning a bowl so late at night.

And judging by the mess in the kitchen, Remy really didn’t have a leg to stand on if he wanted to judge Virgil’s eating habits. From the look of it, his roommate’s dinner had consisted of several pumpkin spice cookies and some kind of caffeinated Starbucks drink: if Virgil had to guess, a pumpkin spice latte.

Nice.

That seemed incredibly healthy.

Virgil put the empty peach can in the recycling bin, cleaned off the fork he’d used, and leaned back against the counter for a moment. He repressed a yawn, looking out over the space. Kitchen aside, Remy had mostly cleaned up before he’d gone to bed. The television was off, the blanket he’d been lying under shoved to one end of the couch even if it wasn’t folded. Remy’s door was open, but the room within was dark. Virgil could see him inside, a vague shape on his bed. Virgil could see the bluish glow his phone gave off in the darkness, indicating that his roommate was still awake.

Well, Virgil didn’t particularly want to be awake any longer. So, he pushed off the counter and strode to his room, planning to just brush his teeth and then go to bed.

…

Didn’t Remy have class this morning?

Remy usually cleaned up any mess he’d left the previous night before he left in the morning. So the fact that it was still there, untouched, was a little odd. Virgil stuck a couple of pieces of bread in the toaster before walking towards Remy’s room, staying just outside it.

The door had been mostly shut at some point, but Virgil could still partially make out his roommate’s form sprawled out on his bed.

Maybe he was skipping (it wouldn’t be the first time), or maybe his class had been cancelled.

Virgil decided to just leave him alone. He had to go to his own classes, after all, and Remy would probably just get mad at him if he tried to wake him up. Assuming Virgil could even pluck up the courage to attempt it.

So Virgil just ate his toast, grabbed his backpack and his phone, and left.

…

Patton sat down beside Logan at lunchtime the next day. He opened up a bag of chips and sort of half-listened to Logan and Roman chatting. Virgil was still getting his food.

Their hoodie-clad friend appeared a few moments later, carrying a tray over to the table.

“Greetings, Virgil. How was your first evening at your new place of employment?” Logan asked as he neared.

“Hey Logan, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Roman interrupted as Virgil took a seat at the table, pointing his fork at his friend. “Have you ever heard of ‘periphrasis’?”

“Yes, of course: it is a technique in which a given author or speaker employs a roundabout, overly long, or complicated choice of words in place of a more concise….” Logan trailed off, apparently realizing what Roman was getting at.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Patton said pointedly, “Virgil! Tell us about your new job!”

Virgil shrugged. He had left an empty chair between him and the next person, who happened to be Roman, until the junior made a point of shoving that empty chair towards another, empty table. “It’s a job,” he mumbled.

“Do you like it?”

Virgil took a bite of his apple, clearly wanting to stall. Patton guessed that he might not like having everyone looking at him and waiting for him to talk.

They waited for Virgil to answer. Logan was sorting through some index cards, but the others just poked at their food until Virgil was ready to speak.

“It was… fun,” he finally admitted. “Kinda sucks working until midnight, but whatever.”

“When do you get to actually start scaring people?”

“Soon as it opens. So, like next week.”

“Mind if we go on opening night? See you in action?” Roman asked.

“Uh… no?”

“Excellent,” Roman said, his grin returning.

“I’m going to go get a refill,” Patton said, picking up his half-full cup and starting off towards one of the soda machines.

Logan looked mildly baffled, but he didn’t say anything, and Roman didn’t seem to notice anything weird. Patton could feel Virgil’s gaze on him as he walked. He knew why: he still had half a glass’s worth of pink lemonade. He poured it out into the soda machine’s tray, feeling a little bad about wasting it, before refilling the glass with water. At least that gave him more of an excuse for leaving right then than just getting more of the same drink.

“How much is admission?” Logan was asking when Patton returned.

“I think it’s like ten bucks,” Virgil answered, biting his lower lip.

“I suppose that is not too expensive,” Logan commented, mostly to himself.

Based on Virgil’s expression, he disagreed, but he still seemed happy that his friends wanted to go. Patton supposed he could have taken this opportunity to claim that the cost was too high for him to go, but that felt too dishonest. And he couldn’t have borne to see Virgil’s little half smile turn to disappointment.

“We should invite Talyn and Joan,” Roman said. “They love horror stuff.”

“My guess is that they are already planning on attending, even if they don’t know that Virgil has a job at the company,” Logan commented.

“Yeah, but this way we can all go together!”

Patton took a sip of his drink, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest.

…

_It’s just a haunted house. None of it is real. It’s supposed to be fun. Nobody’s going to hurt you._

Even despite these assurances to himself, Patton couldn’t help but be nervous. He really hated horror movies, haunted houses, spiders, all of that stuff. He really didn’t want to go to this haunted house.

He was happy for the kiddo and his cool new job, he really was! And he wanted the others to get to go! But he didn’t want anyone to think less of him for not going, or for Virgil to think he didn’t want to support him. Patton couldn’t be the only one to not go—plus, it would stink for him to not get to hang out with everybody just because they wanted to do something a little too spooky for his taste.

Lying on his bed, Patton tapped his pencil against his barely-touched homework, then put his head down on it with a sigh.

He knew this whole haunted house thing was still a week away, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“This is so stupid,” he muttered, scolding himself in a muffled voice. “It’s just a haunted house!”

…

Virgil didn’t have to work at the record shop today, which was nice, but he was supposed to go back to the haunted house. He’d be getting a little more instruction on what he was expected to do during his shifts, and he was supposedly going to get his costume today.

That should be cool.

Remy returned around seven, not long before Virgil had to leave for the haunted house. Virgil heard the key in the lock, the knob turning, and Remy’s slow footsteps entering the apartment. Virgil went to poke his head into the main room and say hello, but Remy had already closed his bedroom door behind him.

Oh well. Remy might’ve just been in a bad mood. He’d gotten a new girlfriend the week before. Maybe they were fighting or something.

Virgil had to leave, anyway.

 …

Virgil made it home a little earlier than he had the previous day, at around 11:30. He laid his costume—darkly colored, artfully torn clothes, white and gray face paint, and a few fake prosthetic wounds to make him look like a zombie—over the back of a kitchen chair. He reached up and stretched, yawning. Virgil still had some homework to do before he could go to bed, but it wasn’t too much.

It was worth it. Despite the late hours, Virgil got the feeling that he was going to really like his job.

…

The haunted house seemed to be all that any of Patton’s friends could talk about for the next week. Patton did his best to pretend that he was as excited about it as they were, and for the most part, it seemed to work.

There was only one instance where they came close to discovering his true feelings on the topic.

…

It was the day before the haunted house opened.

Joan, Patton, and Roman were hanging out in the library that afternoon, working on a group project for their shared history course.

“So, what time should we meet up to go to the haunted house tomorrow?” Joan asked as they typed in some information on the presentation.

“Oh, uh… I don’t know,” Patton said, looking up from his laptop’s screen. Never? Never was good.

“Gee, Pat, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you didn’t want to go,” Roman teased.

Patton laughed, doing his best to make it sound genuine. “Of course, I do! I want to support Virgil. It’ll be… fun.” There was only a hesitation of a fraction of a second in that sentence, and he prayed neither of his friends noticed it. “What time does it open?” he asked, trying to change the subject. His luck seemed to hold.  

“Seven,” supplied Joan.

“We should meet at six,” Roman suggested. “That way we can get dinner together beforehand.”

“Oooh, that’s a good idea!” Patton said, his enthusiasm completely real this time. “I’ll text Logan and Talyn, see what they think.”

Thankfully, neither of them brought up Patton’s lackluster enthusiasm about the haunted house again.

…

Finally, the day came.

Virgil had to be at the haunted house at six, so he wouldn’t be able to go to dinner with the others, but he and Patton, Logan, and Roman all ate lunch together as usual.

Roman, fiddling with one of the fake devil horns he had already attached to his forehead in preparation for that night, listened as Logan rambled on about something he had been researching lately. Something about Alaska, Patton thought. He wasn’t as focused as the conversation as he was pretending to be.

Logan’s facts were almost always super interesting, and Patton felt bad. He could tell Logan was really eager about this (although to be fair, he was always eager about sharing knowledge). Patton should really be paying more attention.

He was just having trouble focusing. They would be at the haunted house in seven-and-a-half hours. That wasn’t a lot of time!

There would probably be spiders there. Realistic monsters. Scary music. Dim lighting, where there _was_ lighting.  Patton wasn’t fond of any of those things, especially when their _sole purpose_ was to terrify him.

“Not that I don’t love a good story about sled dogs, Logan,” Roman was saying, “But maybe we should talk a little about tonight.”

Logan stopped, and nodded. “You make a fair point.”

“You guys are still planning on coming right at seven, yeah?” Virgil checked, although he was sort of talking into his hand, and it came out rather muffled.

“And meeting at six for dinner,” Roman confirmed with a grin.

Patton looked down, messing with a loose thread on his jeans. Feeling Virgil’s gaze on him, Patton looked up, and forced himself to smile. “Seven still works for me!”

“You mean six?”

“Oops, sorry! Yes, I meant six,” Patton laughed. Virgil’s eyes narrowed.

…

“You—you know, Patton,” Virgil suddenly said, as gently as one can when fighting to get out the words. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to?” Patton said, smiling in a confused way. And Virgil nearly believed him; but his smile was just a tiny, tiny bit too bright. A little off. False.

Virgil fixed his friend with a look.

Patton’s smile crumbled. “Okay, maybe I don’t _love_ the idea of going to a haunted house, but… I wanted to support you on your big day! And it’ll be okay; I know the monsters won’t be real, and get to hang out with everybody, after all.”

“Patton,” Virgil said quietly, leaning forward and laying his hands over his friend’s. His tone was serious. “I don’t want you to go if you’re only going because you think you have to. I want you guys to have fun. If you’re not having fun, what’s the point? I’d be happier without you there than with you there and miserable. Okay?”

Patton glanced down at their hands. He still looked conflicted. “I just didn’t want to be the one left out,” he admitted.

“I must admit,” Logan interjected, “I am not eager to be frightened for recreational purposes, either. It seems rather odd, to me. If you so desire, the two of us could “hang out”, as it were, rather than attending the opening night of the haunted house—if that is acceptable to you and everyone else.” He looked around at the rest of the friends.

“Yeah, Lo, you don’t have to go either,” Virgil said with a little nod. Patton’s face had lit up at Logan’s suggestion, which would have been more than enough to convince Virgil even if he had wanted to convince Logan to go.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Roman said. “It can’t just be me who goes! That’s no fun.”

“I am certain Talyn and Joan will still be more than willing to attend. They are avid fans of the horror genre.”

“…True,” Roman admitted, nodding. “I suppose your comfort is most important,” he said, looking at Patton with a small smile. “Plus, we can all still go to dinner together!”

“Yes!” Patton exclaimed, leaning forward.

Virgil watched them all fondly.

…

That night, three friends eagerly entered a haunted house. Strobe lights, cotton spider webs, creepy music and ominous sounds carried them deeper within. It was a maze, twisting back and forth, nearly pitch black at times. Actors, some well-hidden, others simply waiting to stand and leer, or follow, lay in darkened corners.

A zombie—ghastly pale makeup, a fake gash across the throat, dead eyes and dark hair, lay in wait in a graveyard near the exit.

He jumped out, reaching, reaching… for one person in particular: Roman.

That particular person’s high-pitched scream of surprise, unsurprisingly, made Virgil break character completely. He dissolved into laughter, bent over with his hands on his knees.

Thankfully, he recomposed himself before the next party reached him.

Roman would never quite live that down.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Virgil really wants to do is finish his job as a haunted house scarer on a high note and plan a Halloween party with his friends, but something is clearly wrong with his roommate.

Virgil unlocked his phone and checked the time. 12:36 in the morning. That wasn’t the best time to go to bed, especially since he had to wake up in less than seven hours; but he still felt that it was worth the money he was making. Plus, Virgil had to admit that scaring the pants off of random teenagers in a haunted house was a pretty fun way to spend his evenings. As Halloween approached, he was getting better at it, and the number of people he was paid to get to scare each night grew as did people’s excitement over the holiday.

Virgil thought back to how he’d spent the previous two Halloweens. Sitting on the doorstep of his dad’s house, bowl of candy in his arms, silently watching as trick-or-treaters shyly came up to take some sweets. Virgil’s signature eye makeup was in fact a remnant of his costume from Halloween 2015. A year he didn’t like to dwell on much, but things would be different now.

He was in college now, he was firmly away from his mother, and he would be spending the night with his friends. Virgil’s job as a scarer at a local haunted house would be over by then: the final day it was running was the 29th, a Sunday. Technically speaking, it was already Friday, so he didn’t have much time left there. On the 31st, Virgil would be free to spend the night with Patton, Logan, and Roman. Talyn and Joan should be there, too, if nothing else came up in their schedules.

Virgil rolled over onto his other side, adjusting the heavy blanket that lay over him as he did so, and closed his eyes. A faint smile ghosted his lips as he drifted off to sleep.

…

The sound of a crash woke him.

Virgil was up like a shot, looking around the dark room with wide eyes. His heart pounded, adrenaline burning through him.

Had someone broken into his apartment?

Virgil reached blindly to his side and grabbed his phone, turning it on. It was 4:02 AM. No one should be awake at this time, not reasonably.

He pushed himself from the bed and grabbed the first potential weapon he saw: a pair of scissors lying on his desk. Phone in one hand and scissors in the other, he crept to his bedroom door, pressed his ear against it, and listened.

It didn’t sound like anybody was out there. Had it come from the neighbor’s apartment?

Virgil closed his eyes for a few seconds before reaching and unlocking his bedroom door. He pushed it open warily, but he couldn’t see anyone even once he stepped out.

Virgil was beginning to think that maybe he had imagined the noise—he’d been barely awake to register what it was, after all—when he heard a sound, softer than before, from his roommate’s room.

He took a deep breath, in and out. There was no burglar. It was just Remy.

Virgil pocketed the scissors, walking over to the other door. He reached up and knocked. There was a hurried scuffling inside, before the door finally opened.

 _Oh, god_ , Virgil thought, too stunned to actually say anything.

Remy stood before him, and as the young man himself might say, he looked like a hot mess.

His hair, usually pulled back in a neat chocolate-brown ponytail with a single streak of pale pink, lay around his shoulders in lank tangles. He wasn’t wearing sunglasses, for once, and the shadows around his eyes were darker than ever. His eyes looked oddly shiny, like he’d been crying.

“D’I wake you?” he mumbled.

“Yeah, dude,” Virgil said, his eyes wide. “Can I… talk to you?”

Virgil had known something was up with his roommate: that much had been obvious from the way he’d been acting lately; but Virgil clearly hadn’t realized how bad things had gotten.

…

Remy stared at the digital alarm clock on his bedside table, dull eyes watching as the glowing red numbers slowly blinked. He’d been lying here awake for some time now, just watching the time tick by.

3:58.

3:59.

4:00.

Remy looked away, breaking his eye contact with the clock, and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

He just wanted to sleep.

Why the hell couldn’t he  _sleep?_

Suddenly enraged, Remy sat up and grabbed his alarm clock from the table, yanking its plug from the outlet, and hurled it at the opposite wall. It crashed just beside the window and fell to the floor in pieces. Angry tears rose in Remy’s eyes, and he fisted his hands in his hair, barely resisting the urge to pull it out.

Why couldn’t he just sleep?

…

Remy and Virgil sat on the couch. Each had a blanket pulled around his shoulders, a cup of hot cocoa in his hands.

Virgil took a sip of his cocoa, watching Remy over its rim. His roommate was staring down at his own cup, which sat untouched in his lap.

A few minutes before, while Virgil had picked up the pieces of what had been Remy’s alarm clock and deposited them in a plastic bag, he had listened as Remy explained that his insomnia had been getting worse lately.

“I’m just so… so  _god-damned tired_ ,” he had admitted.

And Virgil just didn’t know what to say to that. So, he made himself and Remy the hot cocoa, and now they were just sitting together in silence. Part of Virgil was hoping that Remy would just fall asleep, but it didn’t seem likely. Those impressively dark shadows around his roommate’s hollow eyes only supported Remy’s conviction that his insomnia wouldn’t let him rest.

“Have you tried… I don’t know, some kind of medicine?”

Remy mumbled an answer. It was hard to make out, but the gist of it was that he had a prescription, but it didn’t work.

“Have you taken any tonight?”

“No.”

“Where is it? I’ll grab you some. It’s worth a shot.”

Two minutes later, Remy had taken the pills, washing them down with a bit of his hot chocolate.

“Alright, just lean back,” Virgil said, biting back a yawn. “Give me that cocoa if you’re not going to finish it.”

Remy hummed at him. He lifted the mug to his lips and took a long drink of it. Then he handed the mug to Virgil, who set it on the table.

…

It took a little over half an hour, but Remy was finally starting to look sleepy. His eyelids were drooping, and he had rested his head against the back of the couch. Virgil himself would have fallen asleep long before now, but he had a very difficult time sleeping around other people; and anyway, he wanted to make sure Remy didn’t break anything else tonight.

Whether this sleepiness was due to medicine, the fact that it was now past 5 in the morning, or sheer exhaustion, Virgil couldn’t have said, but it was a huge relief when Remy’s eyelids finally slid shut.

Virgil stayed on the couch next to Remy for about ten minutes longer to make sure he really was asleep. He would have felt awful if he’d gotten up and woken Remy right back up again.

Virgil silently padded back to his room, thankful that his socked feet muffled his footsteps. He was going to try to get some more sleep before he had to wake up for the day, only two hours from now.

…

At 7:30, Virgil emerged from his bedroom. Remy was still sitting up on the couch, asleep. His head leaned back against the cushion, mouth open slightly; and his deep, slow breaths were just barely audible. Virgil watched him for a moment, conflicted. He knew that he had to wake his roommate, since they both had early classes; but he really just wanted to let Remy sleep. He sorely needed it.

Virgil decided that he could at least wait until after he’d brushed his teeth and gotten dressed. Remy didn’t take long to get ready when he didn’t insist on a coffee or tea run.

Finally, though, he couldn’t stall any longer. He reached over and shook Remy’s shoulder.

He woke up the second Virgil touched him, blinking groggily. “Uunph?” he grumbled.

Virgil held up his phone to show Remy the time.

“Sh*t,” Remy mumbled. His eyes were drifting shut again, so Virgil shook him again.

 **Sorry, but we have to go**.

…

“Can’t I just drop out?” Remy grumbled as he gathered his things. “I could be a stripper or something. I’d be a great stripper.”

He looked over his shoulder at Virgil, who was standing by the door, and lowered his sunglasses to look over them. “You know I would be.”

Virgil just rolled his eyes. “Maybe so,” he said. “But right now—right now we have to go to class. You can learn to pole dance when we get home.”

“They make  _bank,_  girl. We could both do it. We’d be rich.”

Virgil just shook his head in exasperation, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He worked his jaw for a few moments before speaking again. “Let me drive you today,” he said as he opened the apartment door. “You’d prob—probably hit a pole or something.”

Remy was offended at the suggestion, but since he nearly walked into the doorframe on his way out, he had to admit that Virgil had a point.

…

Virgil wanted to ask his friends for their opinions on how to help his roommate, but he didn’t think that Remy would appreciate him talking about him with other people. So, Virgil stayed quiet about it, despite how much he wanted to ask friends about it. Instead, they talked about various other things. Homework, a cute dog Patton saw on the way to his classes, and of course, Halloween. They were planning to hang out after class that day—none of them had to work.

“I just don’t understand the appeal of vampires,” Logan was saying. “If we adhere to the strictest versions of the mythology, they cannot even go out in the sunlight, eat garlic, or touch anything silver.”

“You get a fancy cape, though,” Roman pointed out thoughtfully. “And just think of all those romantic movies—vampires attract all the handsome suitors.”

“I doubt you of all people would enjoy being a vampire,” Logan said. “You wouldn’t be able to look in a mirror to see how your hair looks.”

Virgil snorted.

…

Virgil didn’t see Remy again that day. He was closed up in his room until Virgil had to leave for his job at the record shop, and by the time Virgil got back from the haunted house, Remy had gone to bed. Normally, he would’ve still been up at this hour, but Virgil’s roommate had started going to bed earlier. Virgil guessed that Remy was hoping that he would fall asleep sooner that way.

Virgil felt like there was more going on than just the insomnia, but he rarely got the chance to see Remy anymore, let alone talk to him and try to figure out how to help.

In fact, he didn’t even get to talk to him the next day, either. If Remy ever even left his room, it was while Virgil wasn’t there. At one point, about an hour before he had to go to work, Virgil went up to Remy’s door. He wanted to knock, to ask if his roommate was okay. He raised his fist and held it up to the wood, but he hesitated. Remy might not want to be disturbed. He ended up standing there for nearly a solid minute before slowly lowering his hand to his side, and he haltingly walked away.

Virgil couldn’t even check in on his roommate right.

 _Pathetic,_  he berated himself.

…

Remy wasn’t much less reclusive the next day. Virgil didn’t see him at all until just shy of ten minutes before he had to leave for work, by which time it felt too late to have any sort of real conversation. That night was his last night at the haunted house, which was sad because getting paid to scare people was pretty much the dream, but it would be nice to have more free time.

Free time that, most proximately, he had planned to use to figure out how to help Remy. However, he got a chance to talk to his roommate later that same night.

When Virgil got home, having changed back into his regular clothes but still with most of the white and black zombie makeup on his face, he arrived to find that his roommate had actually left the confines of his room. He was sitting lazily on the couch, eating a box of pumpkin spice cookies in the dark. The television was on in front of him, muted.

Virgil set down his things and walked over to the couch. Remy didn’t even bat an eyelid at his makeup. Virgil waved curtly in greeting. Remy just regarded his box of cookies for a second, and then slowly put another one in his mouth.

Virgil sighed, and then closed his eyes briefly, steeling himself. He sat down at the other end of the couch carefully.

“Remy….” Virgil worked his jaw for a moment. After a long pause during which his roommate simply raised an eyebrow, he continued, “Can we talk?”

Remy just blinked at him.

“I’m wo—worried about you. You never sleep, you’re in your room  _all the time_ —you don’t even go on your coffee runs anymore—and no offense, but you—you look like crap. What’s wrong?”

“I’m  _fine_.”

“No, you’re not. I know it’s not just the insomnia, and—and even for that, you need help. You—you should talk to somebody, see a doctor or something.”

“Girl, why are you assuming I haven’t done that already? I have, for your information.”

“Then you’re going to fix it?”

“Ugh, don’t be such a drag,” Remy groaned.

Virgil rubbed the back of his neck. His voice was now even quieter than before: “Maybe if you tell me more, I can help. You look more like a corpse than I do, and I’m the one dressed as a zombie.”

Remy snorted, letting out a breathy laugh. “Good one. Like I already told you, my insomnia prescription stopped working.

“And, like, if you  _must_  know, I’m always a bit blah this time of year just because of that sweet seasonal depression,” Remy said, his tone the exact level of sassy Virgil would have expected, “But this is just a f*cking nightmare. Or it would be, if I could f*cking sleep.

“And I already went to the doctor. So you can like chill with your badgering, ‘kay? I’m getting a new prescription, but they won’t fill it until the first because insurance is stupid. Okay? That a good enough explanation for you?”

Virgil nodded stiffly, and then awkwardly got to his feet. He turned and made to escape to his room.

…

“Ugh, wait…” Remy leaned over and grabbed at his retreating roommate’s arm. “M’sorry,” he said. Virgil stopped, but he didn’t turn back around. “I shouldn’t’ve snapped at ya like that. Thanks for caring, I guess, even if you were being nosy.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I’m just in a bad mood. Sit back down?”

Virgil slowly turned back and sank down on the couch, not quite looking at him.

“I’m just mad about that, like, prescription thing. I shouldn’t take that out on you,” Remy said. “Plus, like, my girlfriend and I’ve been fighting.”

Virgil shifted, but he still didn’t say anything.

“She just, like, doesn’t get it. She’s mad at me ‘cause I, quote, ‘never want to do anything anymore’. Like I’m just being a bore on purpose.”

Virgil shifted again, chewing on his lip.

“You can’t talk, right? F*ck. I freaked you out and now you can’t talk. Ugh.” Remy leaned the side of his head against the back of the sofa. He sighed, and, unmotivated to move again, just stayed there for the time being. The two of them sat for a while in silence, Remy staring at nothing in particular.

Finally, Virgil spoke. “You….” It came out very breathy at first, so he tried again. “You could try explaining things to her. If she… if she really cares about you, she’ll understand. Tell her it’s not a choice and… that she hasn’t done anything wrong. It’ll… yeah. Sorry, I suck at advice.”  

“No,” Remy mumbled. “You’re right. I should do that.”

…

“Hey, Virge, got any preferences?”

Virgil jumped, a little startled. He hadn’t been listening. He and his friends were eating lunch together between classes. He looked up to see Roman watching him expectantly.

“Preferences?”

“For the movies. For the party tomorrow?”

Oh, right. He’d nearly forgotten.

“Well…  _Nightmare before Christmas_  is a classic,” Virgil said. “But if you want something we haven’t watched recently,  _Coraline_ ’s pretty good.”

“Joan already picked  _Coraline_ , so we’re definitely watching that one,” Roman said. “I was thinking of….”

Virgil listened as Roman kept talking about their plans. He tried to take his mind off of Remy—he’d be fine, surely, once he got his medication. It sucked that he had to wait until the start of the next month, but that was only two days away.

He could just focus on their Halloween party plans.

…

Apparently, Virgil was wrong. Things had seemed okay with Remy on Monday, but when Virgil got back from his classes on Halloween, something was clearly wrong.

“Dude what—what’s going on?” Virgil asked, letting the apartment door fall shut behind him. Remy was pacing back and forth in agitation.

“I  _explained_  to her—,” he cried, “but she’s still mad at me!”

“What?”

“My girlfriend!” Remy snapped. “She’s still mad at me.”

What Virgil really wanted to ask here was why the two of them were even together, but he refrained from doing that.

“And now Rory’s…” Remy continued in frustration, “she’s just—uggghhhhh.” He flopped down on the sofa, covering his face.

Virgil chewed his lip. “Rory?” he asked, unfamiliar with the name.

“Short for Aurora, obvs,” came the muffled reply.

Virgil nodded even though he knew Remy wasn’t watching him.

“And Rory, she just like—We were supposed to go out tonight, right? To this sick Halloween party. But now she says I’m not invited. Me! I  _am_  the party!”

Virgil regarded his roommate for a long moment. He stayed silent for a while, debating something. Once he made a decision, it was just a matter of working himself up to actually saying it.

“Hey,” Virgil said suddenly. “I’m going over to my friend’s house tonight to celebrate. D’you want to come? They won’t mind one more.”

Remy moved his arm off of his face, looking like he’d been taken off-guard at the question.

“You want me to crash your party? Nah, girl, fun as that sounds, hard pass.”

“We’re just going to watch some movies and eat junk food. Maybe play some games. That’s better than moping around here all night. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“What about the trick-or-treaters? Someone’s got to supply those brats with their sugar high.”

“First of all, you—you know as well as I do that no kids are coming here. Besides, we don’t even have any candy to give them.”

“You know what, that’s fair.”

“So… you’ll go?”

“I guess, but if it’s lame, I am  _out_.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, grinning.

…

As Virgil drove, he tried to ignore his worries over what the others would think of his roommate. He hoped they would be nice, or rather, that they wouldn’t be awkward about it. And he hoped the same for Remy.

As expected, when Roman opened the door for them, he looked a little surprised at Virgil’s companion. Virgil had, of course, sent off a text to his friends to let them know Remy was coming, just telling them that his roommate was having a bad day and his other plans had gotten cancelled on him; but he supposed that his roommate was a little unusual.

 _Please don’t say “nice costume”_ , Virgil silently begged, watching Roman.

Remy adjusted the beanie, which he’d insisted on grabbing before leaving the apartment, on his head. Roman caught sight of the hand-stitched embroidery on it; and thankfully, one of Virgil’s fears was thus avoided.

‘This is my costume, witch,’ read the hat.

“Nice hat,” Roman commented as he stepped aside to let them in. Remy just smirked, and then they all walked into the main room.

“Happy Halloween!” several voices chorused when they came in.

“Happy Halloween,” Virgil agreed with a half-grin.

“Do we need to order more pizza?” Joan wondered aloud. “For your friend?”

“Nonsense. We always have a surplus of pizza; tonight shall be no different,” Logan pointed out. “Roman orders far too much.”

“Some of us aren’t quitters, Specs! You never eat more than two slices.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Patton insisted, and that was that. Everyone sat down around the TV and around the array of snacks on the coffee table. Various drinks, candies, and cookies were set out over a Halloween-themed tablecloth, a few pizza boxes sitting in the corner. Remy hesitated until everyone else was settled before choosing his spot, between Virgil and the arm of the couch.

…

It was a fun night. Everyone was in costumes: Remy simply had his beanie, but Virgil was dressed in a lazy version of his haunted house zombie outfit, Roman was a devil, Logan was a bespectacled version of Frankenstein’s monster (he got very annoyed with Roman when he at first referred to it as simply “Frankenstein”), Talyn and Patton were both cats (they insisted that this wasn’t planned), and Joan was a vampire.

They all ate their fill of pizza and candy. Logan watched in fond exasperation as Roman and Patton, having already consumed what he pointed out was far more than the recommended amount of daily sugar intake, started throwing pieces of candy at each other when they thought no one else was watching, stifling giggles. Their night wasn’t interrupted by trick-or-treaters ringing the doorbell, as Roman’s brother Emilio was happily taking care of that.

After the first movie, they played a few rounds of a game called ‘Werewolf’, but soon enough, they went back to just watching movies.

Roughly halfway through that second movie, Virgil felt Remy, who hadn’t moved in a while, shift beside him. Virgil glanced over. As he did, his roommate’s head drifted down, before he suddenly jerked it back up. Virgil could tell he was dozing off, even if his ever-present sunglasses made it a little harder to tell.

Virgil turned his attention back to the movie. Soon after, Remy seemed to give up, and stopped trying to stay awake. Roman briefly looked like he wanted to nudge Remy awake, but Virgil quickly shook his head.

“He’s going to miss the best part,” Roman whisper-whined.

“He can watch it later,” Virgil replied pointedly. At that point, Joan, sitting on the floor with Talyn by Roman’s feet, beckoned Roman down and murmured something in his ear. Roman nodded in understanding.

So, they enjoyed the rest of the movie together. Roman and Patton resumed their candy war; and after a stray one hit Talyn, they joined in as well; but the three of them tried to keep it quiet. Joan hoarded most of the chocolate, but nobody really minded. Logan put in a third movie when the second ended. Through all of that, Remy dozed at Virgil’s side, actually getting a little sleep for once. He stayed asleep through most of the third movie as well, but he woke up in time to watch the end of it.

Everyone went home around midnight, most of them bringing along some of the leftover candy and pizza. Virgil drove Remy back to their apartment. They were both silent for most of the drive, but eventually, Virgil spoke.

“So, uh, what’d you think?”

“Can’t complain about free food,” Remy mumbled into his hand, sitting sort of slumped over in the passenger seat.

Virgil supposed that that was one of the more positive responses he’d gotten out of Remy lately, but…. “It—it wasn’t  _that_  bad, right?” Had Remy fallen asleep out of boredom?

Remy shifted, and finally said, “No. Sorry, Virge, I’m just… don’t listen to me. I’m just tired. Thanks for inviting me to your thing.”

Virgil nodded.  **No problem,**  he wanted to say.

“It was good. Really. I’d’ve just been sitting alone in the—,” he broke off to yawn —, “in the dark, so. Thanks.” Remy shifted to sit up a bit more, looking out the window. “Your friends are nice.”

Virgil smiled softly, pulling into a parking space. “Yeah, they are.”

…

Remy got up early the next day—November 1st, finally!—and went to the pharmacy to pick up his new insomnia medication.

When he got home, Virgil was sitting on the kitchen counter, eating cereal out of a soup mug.

“Good night,” Remy called as he walked past.

“It is eight in the morning,” Virgil countered.

“Good night,” Remy repeated cheerily, grinning over his shoulder before closing his bedroom door, locking himself in.

He was already unscrewing the pill bottle he’d picked up. He downed a couple pills, and then flung himself down on the bed. “We have some catching up to do,” he told it fondly.


End file.
